


Hold My Hand

by mamadeb



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-22
Updated: 1999-04-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 16:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11130447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamadeb/pseuds/mamadeb
Summary: RayK and Fraser go to dinner.





	Hold My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Hold My Hand

Hold My Hand

Debra Fran Baker

dfbaker@panix.com

Disclaimer: This story may be printed out for personal use only. Not mine, except for Freddy.

* * *

 "Ready to go, Frase?"

"In a minute, Ray. Sir, do I have permission to leave?"

"Perhaps you could stay for dinner, Constable?" I fumed at the way Inspector Thatcher stared at *my* partner as if she owned him. Or at least as if she wanted to own him. No one owned him . . . not me, not Thatcher, and not the other Ray, the one I was pretending to be. 

"I think not, sir, although I appreciate the offer. Ray and I have plans for the evening." Fraser turned to me and smiled brilliantly. "Don't we, Ray?"

I enjoyed the look of disappointment on Thatcher's face. "Absolutely, Fraser. Why don't you change and I'll meet you out front?"

"Sir?"

"Dismissed, Constable."

"Thank you, sir. Ray, there's no need for you to wait outside. You can come with me while I change." Fraser didn't wait for me to acknowledge this. He just turned towards his office. 

I grinned, nodded toward Thatcher and followed.

=-=

"You know, Fraser, you really should looked for your own place."

"Perhaps." He went to his closet and peered in before taking out a pair of neatly pressed jeans and an equally neat plaid shirt. "How does an Italian restaurant sound tonight?"

I was too busy *not* looking at him as he took off his uniform. The man can fill a pair of longjohns, I'll tell you that, not that he needed to know that I thought so. And usually I enjoy looking at an attractive guy, but Fraser was straining my self-control. "Huh? Italian? Sounds fine to me."

"Francesca recommended a restaurant called Giovanni's." He carefully hung his red suit in his closet, taking his time about it. I could have sworn he nodded at someone, but why would he do something like that?

"You asked Frannie for a recommendation?" 

He looked startled for a moment, like he'd been concentrating on something else. "Of course, Ray. She's lived here her entire life, so it stands to reason she would know. I simply asked her where she would take someone for a special occasion, someplace nice but informal, and she suggested this Giovanni's."

I had to grin. I could picture Frannie's face after he thanked her kindly for the information and then walked away. Then the rest of what he said sunk in. "Special occasion, Fraser?"

He stopped buttoning his shirt for a moment. "Why, yes, Ray. Don't you remember? Six months ago, we became partners . . . and, I hope, friends."

I only wished we could be more than friends. "Absolutely friends. Giovanni's sounds good."

He tucked his shirt into his jeans. "Excellent. Just permit me to feed Dief and we'll be off." The wolf whined at him. "No, Dief, you may not go into the restaurant with us. I've explained this before." The wolf barked. "Very well, I'll make sure to get something for you. You know that you will eventually have to lose this taste for ethnic cuisine." He put his on his hat, tucked a few things I didn't see into his jeans' pockets and that was that.

-=-

"I can say this much for Frannie: She has good taste." I slurped down some more spaghetti.

"Indeed. The food here is excellent." He smiled at me, and moved his hand toward me for a second. Then he stopped and pulled it back. He'd been acting strange like that all night. He kept walking and standing real close to me, almost touching me, and he kept fidgeting with something. Something was definitely up with Fraser.

"Okay, Fraser, what's going on?"

"What do you mean, Ray?"

"You been acting weird all night. You want to tell me about it? Is something wrong?"

"No, Ray. Something is very right. There's something I need to tell you." He threw a quick, defiant glance over his shoulder. I wondered who or what he was looking at. "Ray . . . Stan . . .I'm not an especially demonstrative man, and I find it difficult to express my emotions at times, but there is something I need to tell you."

He looked straight into my eyes as he unclenched his hand and touched mine, which was resting on the table. He barely touched my fingertips, but I swear my heart stopped for a moment, and my mouth went totally dry. "Yes, Fraser?" I was less nervous on my wedding night.

He swallowed visibly. "This isn't easy for me - oh, dear!" He cocked his head. "Ray, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I think . . . Ray, that man has a gun!" He turned towards the cash register. Sure enough, some bozo in a windbreaker was aiming a weapon at the cashier.

Before I could stop him, Fraser was on his feet and on his way to the front of the restaurant. I shook my head, but no way would I let him do that without backup. I put my hand on my own weapon and followed him.

"Sir, I suggest you put that gun away before you get into trouble."

The guy looked at Fraser with the wildest eyes I've ever seen. This was not a man you could reason with. This was a man who could kill. I could feel it in my bones.

"And who are you?"

"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Please give me that gun, sir."

"You a real Mountie? Where's your red suit?"

"I'm off duty at the moment, but I do assure you that I have such a uniform hanging in my office closet. Sir, please hand me the gun and then come along quietly."

The cashier looked scared to death, and other people in the place had started to notice. A little boy at a table next to us stared at the guy's gun like he wanted it for himself. This was going to turn ugly.

"Frase?" I tried to say it low enough that only Mr. Super-ears could hear it, but I guess it was too high because the gunman looked right at us.

"You? Who are you?"

I'd been hoping to avoid this. I whipped out my gun and badge. "Chicago PD. Throw down your weapon *now*."

He blinked. Then he shot a bullet over the heads of the diners. All of us fell face down right away, except for Fraser. I know that because I heard a punch and then Fraser was lying next to me rubbing his jaw.

"My baby! He's got my Timmy!" The poor woman sounded frantic.

I looked up. Sure enough, the guy had a kid in his arms.

"Yeah, I got him. And if you want his mama to see him again, you'll let me go." He looked crazier than ever. I don't mind saying that my heart was in my mouth. "You, cop . . . toss your gun over here. Do it!" I did.

Fraser groaned as he sat up. "Surely you wouldn't injure an innocent child, sir?" I sat up, too. I wanted to take his hand, but that wasn't possible.

The guy just laughed. I was about to let him go just to save the kid when I heard sirens. Timmy's mother screamed again, not that I blamed her. I think everyone in the place held their breaths. Sure enough, they stopped in front of the restaurant.

I looked at the cashier. "Silent alarm?"

She nodded, her eyes wide. I shrugged.

A couple of uniforms ran in and saw the situation and ran out again. Smart guys. They weren't trained to deal with a thing like this. Neither was I, but I didn't have any choice. I had to distract him somehow. Fraser was no use. 

"What's your name?" I know, dumb question, but it was the best I could come up with right then.

"Who you talking to?"

"You. I gotta have a name if I'm going to talk to you. Mine's Ray . . . Ray Vecchio. You know my partner's. What's yours?"

He blinked a couple of times. Timmy squirmed in his arms. "Freddy. Call me Freddy."

"Just Freddy?"

He nodded.

"Okay, Freddy. You saw those cops. In a few minutes, there's going to be a whole squadron out here, and that phone is going to ring. It would make things a lot easier if you let these people all go. We'll stay here. You just let everyone else go. Okay?"

He wavered for a second. I could see that. "You and the Mountie?"

"Yes, Freddy. Ray and I will gladly stay if you permit the rest of the customers and staff to leave."

"Sure. As soon as I let these people go, your guys will be all over me. Nothin' doing. Nobody's leaving here until I get what I want."

"What do you want, Freddy?"

"I . . . haven't figured that out yet." Great, just great. I was beginning to think he'd never done this before. I think my instincts were talking to me. I looked at Fraser, who just shrugged and groaned again. Fraser never admitted to pain. 

"Frase? You all right?"

He shook his head. "My back, Ray. I think I landed incorrectly and injured it."

"What's he saying?"

"You jerk . . . you hurt him." I was ready to get up and do to him what he did to my . . . partner or whatever he was going to be after that night, but Fraser looked at me and looked at the gun. So, I settled for scuttling a little closer to him. "If it helps, Frase, lean on me."

"Thank you, Ray." I don't know if it helped him, but for a moment, just feeling his weight against my side made me forget the danger we were in.

Then I heard looked around. We weren't the only people sitting together on that floor. There were a lot of kids, most of them completely terrified, and I could hear some babies crying. Hell, I could hear some grown men whimpering, too. They were all just nice people having dinner in a nice restaurant. They hadn't bargained for this.

There were cars stopping. I heard doors opening and voices, and then someone brought out a bullhorn.

"My name is Lt. Rogers. We are about to call you on the restaurant phone. Please answer it."

The telephone rang. He glared at it for a moment, then picked it up. Timmy still wriggled in his arms.

"Yeah? I'm Freddy. Not right now, I don't have a last name. Look, I got one of you guys here. . . I'll ask. Hey you, cop . . . what was your name again?"

*Ray Kowalski.* "Ray Vecchio. Detective Ray Vecchio." 

He repeated that. "And he's got this guy claims he's a Mountie with him. Constable something or other . . . what's *your* name?" Fraser told him. "Yeah . . . Fraser. What do I want? What do I want?" His eyes got wild again. "I want . . . I want a new Jaguar. And . . . and a million dollars . . . make that *two* million dollars. And . . . immunity. And I want Laura to come back to me and not marry that jerk."

"Who the hell is Laura?" Fraser shrugged. It must have hurt because he moaned.

Startled, Freddy hung up the phone. "What was that?" He looked at me.

"My partner is hurt, remember? He's in pain."

"Perhaps if I could lie down, Ray, it would be help."

"Can he lie down, Freddy?"

"Sure. Just keep 'im quiet."

Next thing I knew, Ray was lying on his back with his knees bent. His head was on the floor but it was right by my hand. His hair looked so soft. I moved a fingertip. It was soft.

Was he really hurt that badly? Fraser *never* admitted to pain or needing help. Maybe he just wanted Freddy to discount him.

"Yes, this is much better. Who is Laura, Freddy?"

"Laura is . . . was my girl. She left me when I was in prison and now she's marrying some other guy."

Oh, no. "You were in the joint, Freddy?"

"Yeah. This isn't my first job, you know. She said she'd wait for me." His finger tightened on the trigger, while his hand shook. I looked at Fraser, who shook his head. 

The telephone rang again.

"Yeah? Laura's last name? Funello. At least, if she isn't married already." He was silent for a while. "You mean if I show I'm dealing in good faith, you'll do the same? I don't trust cops . . . .Okay. I'll do it." He put down the phone *and* the kid, who ran right to his mom's arms.

"Okay. I'm letting all the kids go. And the moms. Now. Fast. Get the hell out of here before I . . . "

Five minutes later, there were no kids and very few women. I could breathe a little better with Timmy out of danger.

Then I heard the bullhorn again. "Freddy, we have Laura on the phone. Please pick up when she calls."

One ring and Freddy jumped up. "Laura? Is that you? Is that you, you stupid cow? You traitorous bitch? Is that you? . . . .Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard it all before. I was gone six damn months. You couldn't keep your skirt down that long?"

His gun was dangling from his hand. Mine was on the table next to him. I was not going to get another chance at this. I looked at Fraser and he nodded. While Freddy kept cursing at Laura, I counted on my fingers 1-2-3 and we jumped. 

I grabbed my gun while Fraser went for Freddy's. Next thing I know, I had my gun in my hand and there was this gunshot. Fraser was lying on the ground bleeding. I kept my gun aimed at Freddy as I slid to the floor next to Fraser.

The guy's eyes were huge. "Oh, my God. I never shot anyone before." He looked at the gun in his hand in horror, and all the wildness was out of his eyes. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Freddy! Freddy, we heard gun shots. Freddy, what is going on in there? Call us." He gave the cell phone number twice.

"Freddy, put the gun down and call that number. Then hand me the phone. Freddy? Do it now, or things could get hairy."

"Is the Mountie going to be all right?"

I wanted to know that myself. "Frase?"

"I think . . . I think I'm in considerable pain, but not in any danger for the moment."

"You sure?" I started to unbutton his shirt to check when he stopped me.

"Ray . . . take care of this situation. Then . . . take care of me." He grabbed my free hand and held it. My other hand kept the gun pointed straight at Freddy, who was clearly scared.

"Well, Freddy?"

"What do I do?" He slid to the floor and curled up, the gun hanging from his hand.

"First, put the gun down. That's good. Now kick it over to me. Now, dial that number."

"I don't remember the number!"

"It's okay. Fraser, do you know it?

"Yes, Ray." He gave it slowly. His voice was noticeably weaker when he finished. So was his grip on my hand. I was getting scared. Freddy dialed and gave the receiver to me.

"Lt. Rogers here. Freddy?"

"No. It's Detective Vecchio."

"We heard a gunshot. Was anyone hurt?"

"My partner was injured but he's conscious, at least for the moment. I have Freddy's gun, and I think he's ready to surrender. Right, Freddy?" He nodded, his eyes wide.

"We'll get an ambulance for your partner, Detective. You sure that's his only weapon?"

"Yeah, I think so. And he's not in any shape to grab anything. I can't leave my partner alone." I stole a glance at Fraser. He was alarmingly pale, but he managed to smile at me a little.

"Send him out of the restaurant. Once we have him in custody, send out the rest of the hostages. The ambulance is on its way."

"Freddy? Freddy! Stand up, and walk out of the place with your hands up high. Just walk out the door and stand there . . . Lieutenant, he's on his way out."

Freddy walked out. Someone grabbed him and put the cuffs on him. Rogers gave me the nod to let the others go. Fraser was nearly out. He still tried to stop me when I unbuttoned his shirt, but this time he couldn't do it. The shirt itself was soaked with blood, and so were the longjohns underneath it. I opened then, and felt around. I *hate* doing things like that, but Fraser looked like he was bleeding to death.

Just as I thought I'd felt something, he moaned. I ripped his shirt off the rest of the way and pressed it to the wound as hard as I could.

"It's going to be okay, Fraser . . . Ben. It's going to be just fine. The ambulance is on its way. Just stay with me. Please. Say something."

"I'm not . . . going . . .anywhere . . . . I . . . was . . . interrupted . . . earlier."

"You can tell me later . . . "

"No . . . this . . . not . . . the . . . way . . . I . . . wanted . . . to . . . celebrate . . . " His voice was barely a whisper. "I want . . . to finish . . . this . . . Stan . . . before . . . the . . . ambulance . . . "

"It's okay . . . I think I know. And . . . I feel the same way . . . .at least I think so."

So help me, the man smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen. "I . . . can . . . only . . . hope . . . " He took a deep breath and seemed to summon all the strength he could. "I love you, Stan Kowalski. Please . . . "

It must have been too much for him, because he chose that moment to faint. So he didn't hear me whisper his words back to him.   


And then, the ambulance came and took him away. I had to take care of paperwork and Dief and the car and Thatcher and Turnbull. He was in surgery by the time I got to the hospital, but no one was going to make me leave once I got there.

They let me be with him when he came out of anesthesia. He couldn't say much, but he let me take his hand and he smiled.

=-=-=

"Ray, I'm fine. I am fully recovered. Even my back has benefited from the extended bed rest. There is no need to coddle me." We were sitting in my apartment the day he was released, and I had just refused to let him help clean up the pizza we'd had for dinner.

"Maybe I like coddling you, Frase? Maybe I enjoyed taking care of you when you were in the hospital? Maybe I just want to take care of you now to show you I love you?"

No one but me got to see that smile. "I do know this . . . Stan. But, perhaps it's time to show it in a more physical manner?" Then he grabbed me and gave me the kiss of my life. We'd kissed before . . . fast ones because the nurses never left him, which meant *us* cause they couldn't get rid of me, alone for a minute, and when they weren't there, Thatcher or Frannie or Turnbull were.

This was slow and gentle, and it touched me in places I didn't know I had. I tried to keep it nice and easy, and I think I would have been happy kissing him forever like that, but our bodies had other ideas, judging from the hole I was drilling into him.

I stood up and reached out a hand to Fraser, and held on to him while we walked to my bedroom. We started taking off each other's clothes, me fumbling with his buttons and layers, him doing everything carefully and precisely, except that for once, Fraser didn't concern himself with neatness - he just let the clothes fall where they wanted to. 

And he was beautiful. As beautiful as I'd ever imagined, except for one thing. I reached out gently to touch his scar. He blinked.

"I'm sorry."

'It's just a little sensitive." He smiled. "I do have other sensitive areas. As, I believe, do you." And then he showed me just what he meant by sensitive areas as he got down on his knees in front of me and took me . . . all of me . . . in that perfect mouth. I knotted my fingers in his hair and let him do what he wanted. Then he pulled away.

"W . . . why did you stop?" 

He looked up at me. "Because, Stan, I have other plans for you." He smiled then and his eyes glowed. Next thing I knew, we were on the bed and I was holding him in my arms and making his mouth mine, tasting my own precum in it.

My nerves were on fire and my heart was beating so fast I couldn't breathe and all I wanted to do was touch this man in my arms, who belonged in my arms the way no one, not even my ex, ever did.

"Are you all right, Stan?" Just hearing my name . . . *my* name . . . on his lips was enough to send a thrill through me.

"You feel so good, Frase. I've never . . . I mean, I've wanted to, thought about it, but I've never . . . "

He kissed me again. "It doesn't matter. I have made love to a man before. Just let me . . . "

"Who?" I felt a surge of jealously.

"It doesn't matter. It was many years ago and very far from here."

I relaxed then. It wasn't Vecchio. "Whatever you want, Fraser."

"Please, call me 'Ben' again. No one does anymore." He began to stroke my back.

"Not even . . . .*him*?"

"He called me 'Benny'. And I never needed him the way I need you now. I love *you*."

Mounties never lie. "I love you. Ben. Need you."

"Take me, then. I'll show you how." Take *him*? But . . . 

"You want me to . . . " That was something I'd been afraid to dream about, but it sent a clear message to the rest of me.

"Yes! If you want . . . "

"Just show me."

And he did . . . oh, God, did he. He had lube and condoms in his pants. Turned out he'd brought them with us that first . . . I gotta call it a date, but things had happened. And he showed me what he wanted, what turned him on and got him ready, and I don't mind saying that it got me ready, too. I never thought sticking my fingers *there* would be a turn on, but he went wild and that made me wild, too.

Then he was on his back and his legs were wide, and that last part was exposed for me to see. And I slipped on the condom and lubed it up the way he'd said to back when he could still talk and then I was inside of him.

He was so tight and so hot that I nearly gave it up then and there, but I managed to hold on. I just looked at his face. It was hot and sweaty, his eyes weren't seeing anything and his hair was messier than mine. He was never so beautiful, and he was all mine. I claimed him and his perfect body as he grabbed my hands and wrapped those legs around my waist. 

I wanted to be gentle, but this wasn't the time and he wouldn't let me. He kept moving harder and harder, so I finally let go of his hand and started stroking him in *his* rhythm, faster and faster until finally he exploded right onto my chest and I followed.

I collapsed onto the bed, still inside of him and eased myself out. Then we rolled onto our sides and just looked at each other. He was flushed and gorgeous and if I hadn't been on the wrong side of thirty, it might have been enough for me to go again. It didn't matter.

I kissed him as gently as I could, and he smiled. "I'm never letting you go, Ben. You know that, right? Even when *he* gets back, you are my partner. You are *mine*."

"Yes, as you are mine." We lay like that for a long time, until it got too sticky. I got rid of the condom while he got a wet cloth and cleaned us both up. 

He took my hand before he went to sleep. I guess he needed it. He could have anything he wanted if it meant I could wake up next to him the next day and forever. __

_Copyright 1999_ Debra Fran Baker _and NightRoads Associates_


End file.
